


Alliance

by LadyFogg



Series: Lady Fogg GTA Oneshots [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, GTA AU, GTA Ryan, Language, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heist you’ve been carefully planning for months gets disrupted by the Fake AH Crew. You decide to work with them...that is until you get your hands on the money. After you betray them, Ryan tracks you down and the two of you come to your own “arrangement”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alliance

You’re a planner. It’s what you do. You can’t help it.

When you go into a heist, you plan every little detail. It’s how you’ve been able to do so many over the years. It’s how you’ve managed to maintain your reputation. Or lack of reputation. Because to some people you’re a ghost, a figment of your victims imagination. You go in, grab the money, then are gone. Most people think you leave Los Santos after every heist.

You don’t, you just hide very well.

This heist you’ve been planning for months. The bank is one of the larger ones and you’ve already done recon several times. Today was the perfect day. The bank was at capacity and you have every detail good to go.

You had posed as a bank manager looking for work several months before. Of course all your paperwork had checked out. You were familiar with some of the staff, but due to recent turnover most of the workers were brand new, so they didn’t quite know who you were yet.

You knew the ins and outs of the branch.

You walk into work and make your way to your office. You are barely paid attention to, as the bank is particularly full that morning. You go to your office and make sure to start your typical morning routine. It involves going through some paperwork from the day before and a few other menial tasks. Before you know it, it’s time for your first patrol of the floor.

Meaning, the plan starts now.

You briskly walk out of your office, keeping your pace normal and your demeanor calm.

However, as you enter the main floor of the bank, you immediately sense something is off.

A group of men has just walked in and you see one of them seal the doors.

_You have got to be fucking kidding me..._ you think angrily.

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!” One of the men yells, firing several shots from an assault rifle into the air.

You try to look angry as you instruct your staff and patrons to do as they say. With your hands in the air you get down on the uncomfortable marble floor. People are screaming and crying, and the men are yelling.

“ALRIGHT! We don’t want any trouble. We’re just here for the money and if everyone remains calm and listens to what we say, there won’t be an issue,” the man continues. They're all wearing various masks, making it difficult to see their faces. They all have different height and builds and when they speak to each other, you notice they have very distinct voices. 

The fact that they are speaking to each other in general lets you know they aren’t exactly seasoned professionals. Keeping your mouth shut was one of the first things you learned in a heist. Your staff and patrons are probably too scared to pick up on what the men are actually saying, but when you stop to listen you are able to learn their names. Geoff, Ray, Michael, Gavin, Jack and Ray. You’re still not quite sure which is which, but at least you have something to go on.

_Jack asses..._ you think to yourself.

They demand money from your tellers and you watch them carefully, trying to figure out who they are. You’ve been in this business for a long time and know who most of the players are in the area.

Those names suddenly click and you know exactly who you’re dealing with. The Fake AH Crew. They’ve been responsible for a slew of heists throughout the entire city, but you never heard chatter of them focusing on this particular bank. Just your luck.

“Okay, listen up people!” says the one they call Geoff. “We need someone with access to the vault to let us in! Then we will be out of your hair and on our way!”

No one moves. You notice some of the other managers looking at each other and you, and you act before one of them can.

“I have access,” you say, raising your hands in surrender. “I’m a manager. I can open the vault. Just leave my staff out of it.” Geoff nods to one of the guys closer to you, who marches over and grabs your arm, pulling you to your feet. He’s wearing a grey skull mask that smiles creepily at you. You think you remember them calling him Ryan.

“This way,” he orders, pulling you towards the back. There’s a hallway that leads to some offices and a staircase. The staircase brings you right down to the vault. Two other guys follow you. Michael and Ray you think are their names.

You try to think about the best way to handle the situation. You could cut your losses; let them into the vault, trip the alarm and allow the police to do the rest. Of course that would require you to forget about your own heist. That would require months and months of work completely wasted. It’s not the option you’re particularly fond of.

Or, you could try to separate them and slip away. You don’t really want to be there when the police show up. You’re good at what you do, but if they start looking into everyone in the bank, your cover would be in jeopardy.

The three men usher you into the stairwell and you begin to descend towards the basement, where the vault is kept.

As you get to the first security door and punch in the code, Ray offers to stand guard. Now it’s just you and the two others. Two you can handle.

You pick your third option: improvise.

“Is it me or does she seem oddly calm?” you hear Michael whisper to Ryan as you lead them down a long hallway to the vault.

Ryan doesn’t respond to him. Instead he moves up to walk beside you. “Don’t worry, we aren’t going to hurt you,” he assures you.

“Do I look worried?” you ask, barely sparing him a glance.

“No,” Ryan says. “You look annoyed.”

“Well six men just burst into my job, waving guns around and pointing them at me,” you tell him as you reach the vault door. “That would ruin anyones day.”

“She’s got a point,” Michael agrees.

You punch in several codes to the vault and step back as the men open the door. They whistle and nudge each other when they see the stacks of money. Since they aren’t looking at you anymore, you allow yourself an eyeroll. They’re like children.

Ryan makes a move to step into the vault.

“Wait!” you exclaim.

When they look at you questioningly, you gingerly step forward and run your hand along the doorframe, looking for the hidden keypad. You punch in the security code and the silent alarm is disabled.

“Silent alarm?” Ryan asks you.

“Yes,” you say. “I don’t want any trouble. Just take the money.”

Michael rushes forward and pulls a folded bag out of his pocket. He begins hurriedly packing money into it while Ryan pulls another bag out of his pocket and tosses it next to him. He then turns to you and trains his gun on you.

“Is that really necessary?” you ask, your arms folded against your chest.

“It is when I don’t trust you,” Ryan says.

“I’m not the one robbing the bank,” you say.

Ryan remains silent for a moment. You can’t see his face, but you can tell he’s sizing you up. “Yeah, but you’re not exactly trying to stop us, are you?”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Two men are pointing guns at me and forcing me to open the vault, I let them trip the alarm and then there is nothing stopping you from shooting me. I’d rather not get shot.”

“Most people would rather do the right thing,” Ryan comments.

“Like not rob a bank?” you ask.

He chuckles. “I like you,” he comments.

You roll your eyes again. You seem to be doing that a lot today. “Great, there’s the approval I didn’t need,” you say.

Ryan laughs and that when Michael speaks up. “Dude, stop fucking flirting and help me with this money,” he says. “She’s not going anywhere. If she tries to get away, Ray will back us up.”

After glancing at you one final time, Ryan lowers his shotgun and moves to help Michael. In no time they’ve packed the bags full of cash. You estimate there to be about $500,000.

_Lame..._ you think. _Split six ways that’ll barely do anything. No wonder they have to continually rob banks to make any kind of profit._

You lower your hands to your hips as if you are just adjusting your stance. You slowly take one hand and reach behind you, to the small knife you keep tucked between your blouse and your skirt. Michael hands both bags to Ryan before grabbing his gun once more. Ryan pushes past you with the bags, while Michael grabs your upper arm.

“Time to go,” he says.

You take a few steps before you strike. Grabbing the knife, you stab Michael in the shoulder and push him into the vault. He barely has time to yell as he goes falling backwards; you grab his rifle as he does. Ryan turns just as the vault door shuts behind you, locking Michael in.

Ryan drops the bags as soon as he sees you, but you’re quicker than him and before he can grab his shotgun, you fire several warning shots, grazing his arm enough to stun him. You kick one of your heels off and it goes flying towards him, hitting him square in the face.

“Son of a bitch!” he snaps.

You take the moment to jam the butt of the rifle into his knee, causing him to scream and fall to the ground. You kick his shotgun away and grab both bags of money, slinging the straps over your shoulder as if the bags weighed nothing.

“Don’t follow me,” you order him. “You follow me, I’ll kill you.”

Without giving him a chance to answer, you walk away from Ryan writhing in pain on the ground, pausing to slip your shoe back on. As you walk down the hall, you dismantle the rifle and drop the pieces on the ground. You hate rifles and avoid them when you can. You prefer knives and pistols.

As expected, Ray is banging on the door, calling for his friends and asking what the noise is all about. They failed to realize the door locks from both sides. Really their lack of planning is astounding. You put in the code and yank the door open, causing Ray to stumble in. After tripping him and sending him spiraling to the ground, you slip past him and out the door, yanking it shut behind you so it locks.

“Amateurs…” you mutter with a shake of your head.

You hurry up the staircase and walk briskly to your office. You close the door behind you and hurry to your windows. They are already unlocked and the screens have been removed, per your original plan. Without even glancing back, you slip out with both bags and drop down from the second story. The landing hurts, but nothing you can’t handle.

You’re in your car, peeling out of the parking lot in minutes. You pass a group of police cars that skid to a halt in front of the bank.

You make it back to your apartment building without any issue. You decline your security guard’s offer of assistance with the bags you’re carrying. You own the top two floors and are sure to deposit your money in one of the many rooms you have. It’s a special room for just that purpose and you lock it behind you.

It’s not until you’re safe in your living room that you allow yourself to breath a heavy sigh of relief and collapse onto your couch. The crew will be looking for you once they get out of jail. It’s inevitable. Your cover will also be blown now and you’ll have to change your appearance a bit. But you’ve dealt with stuff like this before and it’s nothing you can’t handle. You eye the bar in the corner and realize a drink sounds amazing.

You get up and pour yourself some whiskey, downing it instantly. You’re just about to take another shot when there’s a pounding on the front door.

You immediately drop the glass on the bar and move to your end table. You grab the pistol tapped underneath it and point it at the door. The pounding continues and you carefully make your way across the room. Counting to five, you take a deep breath and yank the door open.

You’re not surprised to find yourself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. 

“How did you find me?” you ask.

Ryan smirks. “I followed you,” he says as he slowly limps into your apartment. He nudges the door closed with his elbow. You back up as he draws closer, making sure to keep your eyes trained on him.

“I told you not to,” you remind him. “That was the deal. I don’t kill you and you don’t follow me.”

“I don’t think you’ll kill me anyways,” Ryan says. “You had your chance to back in the vault and you didn’t.”

You fire several shots just passed his ear, hitting one of the paintings on the wall behind him. While he doesn’t flinch, you can tell he is still surprised.

“Okay, maybe you will kill me,” he amends. “But I’m sort of on a murder break so I really don’t want to pull this trigger if I don’t have to.”

“How did you get out?” you ask. “The door automatically locks on both ends.”

“You’re not the only one who was casing the bank,” Ryan says. “Night time security. Hired last month.”

You can’t help but feel a little impressed. “So you really only needed me for the vault,” you say.

“Pretty much,” he says.

“Since this was my job first, why would I just let you live and take the money back to your idiot friends?” you ask. “I’ve been casing that bank for over six months. And you dumb asses just screwed everything up!”

“My friends don’t know I came after you,” he says. “In fact they are probably either running from the police right now or involved in an intense shootout.”

“I see,” you comment. “So you plan to take the cash all for yourself and then what?”

Ryan shrugs. “Retire some place sunny? Maybe where they give you those tall drinks with the little umbrella?”

“Retire on that amount?” you ask with a snort.

“Sweetheart, I have plenty saved up from our previous heists,” he says. “This is merely pocket change. This is personal now.”

“Why? Because I bested you so you’re going to betray your friends, just to get even?” you ask. “See, people like you are why I work alone.”

“Says the woman who stabbed us in the back first,” he says.

“Technically I stabbed Michael in the shoulder, but I see your point,” you concede. You both fall into tense silence. Neither of you really wants to kill the other, but with $500,000 cash at stake, you’re not ready to back down.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Ryan says eventually. “I won’t shoot you if you split the money with me.”

“Oh really?” you ask.

Ryan shrugs. “I said it was a deal, didn’t say it was complicated,” he says.

“Right, and I’m just supposed to lower my gun and trust you’ll do the same? How the hell am I supposed to believe you?” you say. “Sorry, I don’t make deals with armed and masked men. Tends to bite me in the ass.”

Ryan takes one hand off his shotgun and grabs the top of the skull mask. With a tug it slides off and he tosses it to the side. “There,” he says, his voice slightly clearer without the mask muffling it. “Now I’m not masked.

No. No he was not. And damn it if he wasn’t good looking.

_Should have known..._ you think to yourself. _Only a hot guy could give me this big a headache._

“Lower your gun,” you order.

Ryan narrows his blue eyes at you. “You lower yours first,” he counters.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, not going to happen,” you tell him.

“I took my mask off,” he points out. “It’s time for you to give me something now. Lower your gun, and then I’ll lower mine.”

“Fuck that,” you say. “We lower them at the same time. We put them on the ground and kick them to the side. Okay?”

He gives an annoyed grunt but nods curtly. “Fine.”

Very, very carefully you both lower your weapons. Once they are on the ground, you hesitate for a moment before pushing your pistol away. It slides across the wood floor and comes to a stop under the coffee table. Ryan’s shotgun clatters across the floor and disappears down the hall.

Carefully, you both stand, hands raised in surrender.

“How do I know you’re not carrying another weapon?” you ask.

“How do I know you’re not either?” he counters. “You pulled that knife from nowhere. How do I know you don’t have others stored under all those clothes?”

You glare at him. “So you are carrying something?”

He blinks, confused. “What? No, I’m not.”

“You said ‘either’.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Which implies that you are carrying a concealed weapon also.”

“Also? So you are carrying something!”

“Wait, what? No I’m not!”

“Well, you just said-”

“Alright, enough!” you exclaim. “Now I’m all kinds of confused. I need another drink.” Ryan chuckles and you can’t help but smirk. You are surprised when he lowers his hands and drops himself onto one of your couches.

“There, no concealed weapon,” he says. “Get your drink.”

It takes you a second to lower your own hands, but by that point Ryan isn’t even paying attention to you anymore. You see him looking around at your place and taking in his surroundings. You move to the bar and immediately pour yourself some more whiskey. “Drink?” you offer to him before taking a sip.

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head no, turning his gaze to the wound on his arm. The spot where your bullet grazed at the bank has stopped bleeding. It’s not that deep but he still makes a noise of annoyance.

“I really don’t appreciate being shot at,” he says as you walk over and sit down in your leather armchair.

“Well I don’t appreciate my job getting interrupted by amateurs,” you say back.

“Amateurs?” he asks. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, pointing at him threateningly. “Don’t ‘Sweetheart’ me. I’m not your ‘Sweetheart’. I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve gone a long time without a problem until you and your crew burst in.”

Ryan purses his lips for a moment before sighs. “Well what should I call you then?” he asks. “You never gave me your name.”

“I never give anyone my name,” you tell him. You down the rest of the whiskey in your glass. The burn down your throat is pleasant and settles in your stomach.

“Okay, well do you have a codename or something?” Ryan asks. “If we are going to be partners, I need to call you something. And clearly you don’t like ‘Sweetheart’. If you’ve been at this for years, you probably have a codename.”

You shrug. “Never felt the need to give myself one,” you say.

Ryan rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Fine what do they call you then? You know, the people that you rob. The authorities.”

It’s your turn to scrunch your nose with disdain. “It’s stupid and I hate it,” you tell him.

He smirks. “Why, is it embarrassing?” he asks.

You absentmindedly play with the empty glass in your hand. “Contessa,” you mumble.

You watch as Ryan’s eyes grow wide and he sits up. “No shit!” he exclaims. “You’re ‘Contessa’?”

You grimace. “Ugh, I hate that name,” you say again as you stand and move to get more whiskey.

“Now I feel like a giant dick for ruining your job,” Ryan says, running a hand through his dirty-blond hair. “We’ve heard so many stories about you. I thought you left Los Santos after you lifted those diamonds last summer.”

You shake your head. “Nope,” you say as you pour another drink. “I never leave. I just lay low and don’t work with partners.”

“And you’re working with me now? I’m flattered,” he says.

You raise your eyebrow him over the rim of your glass. “What makes you think I’ve agreed to work with you? I only agreed to not shoot you.”

“What do I need to do to convince you to work with me?” Ryan asks, his voice taking on a husky tone. Your body feels warm suddenly, and you’re very sure it has nothing to do with the whiskey.

“Well, I need incentive,” you say. “There’s no reason for me to tell you where the money is right now. There’s no incentive for me to split it with you.”

“I can tell you where more is.”

You roll your eyes for about the thousandth time that day. “Typical,” you say.

“No, you don’t understand,” Ryan says standing. He makes his way towards you, but instead of backing away this time you stand your ground. “I don’t just mean another heist. I mean, I know where the guys keep their shares.”

Well that certainly interests you a bit more. “Even if I believed you,” you tell him, putting your empty cup down. “There’s still a matter of the whole, ‘no trust’ issue.”

“I’m willing to work on that,” he says. He’s now standing in front of you, and you can’t take your eyes off of his.

Every instinct is telling you not to trust him. But your body is suddenly very warm and you feel yourself aching for him to touch you. It’s been a very long time since you’ve been with someone and something about Ryan is just doing it for you.

“Are you?” you ask, closing the gap between both of you, Your fingers gently slide into his belt loops and you tug him forward so his body is pressed against yours. “I only really have one way someone can build my trust and I’m not sure if you’re up for it.”

He is surprised; you can see it clearly across his face. But the surprise almost instantly fades and he breaks into a wicked smirk. “I’m sure I am,” he says, his hands gently gliding up your arms. His fingertips are barely touching you but your body is already humming.

You smirk back. Your hand slides down between your bodies and you cup him through his jeans. He jumps a little at the unexpected and direct contact.

“Well then!” he says. “This was certainly not ever mentioned when people discuss ‘Contessa’.”

You make a noise of disgust and pull away. “Ugh, don’t call me that,” you tell him, turning your back on him so you can reach for the bar again. 

However, his hands slide around your waist and he pulls you back against him, his breath tickling your ear. His erection is very evident as it presses against your backside. “Whatever you say, Boss,” he says.

“Oh that is much better,” you grin, turning back to face him.

His mouth covers yours as soon as you do and you groan into his kiss. His lips are impossibly soft against yours, but are somehow equally demanding. Your tongue finds its way into his sweet mouth and your hands begin tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

When you pull away to gasp for air, his eyes sparkle down at yours. “Bedroom?”

“This way.” You take his hand and lead him down the hall.

You both step over the shotgun on your way, too focused on this new development to give it much thought.

His hands are on you again as soon as you reach the bedroom. His mouth seeks yours and you meet him halfway, moving your hands under his shirt to feel his smooth skin. His fingers make quick work of the clasp of your skirt and soon it slides down your legs, pooling at your feet.

There is a soft thud and he pulls away and looks down to see the second knife tangled in your clothing.

“You sneaky-”

You pull the pistol out from the waistband of his pants and raise your eyebrow at him.

“So we both can’t be trusted,” he says grinning. You toss the pistol off to the side.

You grin back and pull away to unbutton your shirt. He tugs his over his head and tosses it to the ground. He goes to reach for you but then stops.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Are you wearing stockings?” he asks, a strange look in his eye.

“Nylons? Yeah, why?” you ask. You realize the look he’s giving you is a hungry one. He looks like a predator about to devour his prey and you allow yourself a smirk. “Are they working for you?”

“I have a thing for stockings…” he says almost breathlessly.

His hands are all over you no, and his mouth is even more demanding than before as he practically swallows your tongue. You throw your arms around his neck and jump up. He catches you as you wrap your legs around his waist.

He carries you to the bed and lays you onto it, pulling away from your kiss so he can dispose of your bra. His mouth descends on your breast and you arch into him, moaning as his tongue swirls delicately around your sensitive nipple.

Foreplay is great and all but it’s not what you want.

You want him. Hard and fast.

You push him away so you can sit up and pull down his underwear. His erection springs free and you waste no time wrapping your fingers around him and giving him a firm stroke. It’s his turn to groan and he pushes you onto your back once more. Reaching down, you feel him tear the nylons in between your legs before his hand is sliding against your wet underwear.

The teasing touch makes you growl and you reach for him. Immediately his body is over yours and he’s pushing the fabric out of the way. His fingers delve into your waiting heat and you cry out.

“Now!” you order.

He withdraws his hand and then he’s pushing his cock into you, filling you at such an achingly slow pace you pull him towards you, causing him to enter you all at once.

You both gasp and your mouth seeks his as his hips begin to slam against yours.

His movements border on the line of painful, but every time he adds an extra deep thrust you clench around him and cry out. His mouth leaves yours to attack your neck, leaving small bites and red marks as he does. You wrap your legs around his waist and he moans at the feeling of your stocking-clad legs rubbing against his sensitive skin.

Sweat is forming on both your bodies and his hips begin to move faster. You slid your hand into his hair and tug his head up so you can reach his mouth.

When you come you bite down on his bottom lip to keep yourself from screaming. He grunts and then he’s coming to, slamming into you again and again and again…

It takes a very long time for both of you to react after he collapses against you. Carefully he removes himself and you give a small whine at the loss of contact. When you see the flash of pain across his face you frown.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops onto the bed next to you and bends his knee. You see the angry red and purple bruise and you wince.

“Oh, sorry about that,” you say.

“I’ve had worse,” he says, putting his hands behind his head. “And the sex more than makes up for it.”

You chuckle and drape yourself across his chest, resting your chin on your arms.

“Okay, now I trust you just fine,” you say.

He grins. “Same,” he says. “But just to be safe we’ll probably have sex a couple more times. Can’t have too much trust.”

You laugh and he looks surprised.

“Oh my god, stop the fucking presses,” he says. “She’s laughing.”

“Oh fuck off,” you say hitting him the chest as you make a move to get up.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you back down, kissing you deeply. You kiss him back briefly before pulling away. “Alright, we have work to do,” you say. “If we’re going to get that money, we need to do it while your friends are still distracted.”

“Then what?” he asks, letting you go so you can move off the bed. His eyes are drawn to the, now ripped, nylons you’re still wearing. You see a flash of desire cross his face and he bites his bottom lip slightly.

“I don’t know,” you say smirking back at him. “Some place sunny?”

His eyes sparkle. “Maybe with those drinks that have the little umbrellas?”

“Of course.”

He grins and gets up, stalking towards you. “That’s all well and good,” he says. “But I think we need to build more trust first.”

You chuckle as he wraps his arms around your waist. “It’s the stockings isn’t it?”

“God damn are they doing it for me!” he says.

You laugh as he leans down to catch your mouth with his.


End file.
